


Exposed

by Luckless_Salmon



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Abuse, Childhood Memories, Dreams, F/M, Fertility Issues, Garon is a hoe and Katerina deserved better, Mother-Son Relationship, Overprotective! Ryoma, Romance, Sad/Shy Xander, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19035424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckless_Salmon/pseuds/Luckless_Salmon
Summary: For many in Nohr, dreams were an escape from a nightmarish reality. Xander wasn’t sure if he preferred the terrors of his sleep or those of his everyday life.





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, the first section of text is a little graphic; if you want to skip it, just know it was basically a nightmare sequence.

_ Prince Xander of Nohr cracked open his eyes, head pounding as if someone was tightening a clamp around his skull. The rest of his body seemed to be faring no better; his bones ached as he pushed himself into a seated position, armor moaning as if his agony was palatable to it too. Siegfried, sheathed and barely still attached to his hip, thrummed with energy, radiating heat into his thigh. He wasn’t sure where he was, but something was... odd. _

_ He was in a field, albeit a ghastly one; corpses littered the ground like newly fallen snow at the start of winter, gashes and slashes covering their bodies. Blood saturated the dry soil, providing moisture their fields had not received in months.  _

_ Blood, there was so much blood.... _

_ Pushing himself off the ground and onto unstable legs, Xander soon realized he must have shattered a bone in his thigh, the same that Siegfried rested against; it was practically dead weight and he struggled to pull it along as he made his way towards one of the nearest bodies. _

_ He was able to recognize some of the men and women as Nohrian soldiers by their armor. Even slathered in mud and bodily fluids, the noble blacks and purples of the royal family stood out to him, practically burned into his retinas from years of education and training. The identity of the opposing soldiers, however, escaped him at present. Dropping to his knees with clenched teeth and a restrained groan of pain, he reached over to one such unidentified soldier and began to slough off whatever material was covering his or her breastplate.  _

_ The outline of a familiar crest began to appear, etched deep into the crimson metal and emphasized with white accents. Hoshidan metalworking may have been inferior in comparison to that of Nohr, but their smithies damn well tried their best to ensure each piece of armor was as beautiful as the last. Xander, as dazed as he was, took a few moments to admire the emblem before looking down at his own gauntleted hands.  _

_ Sticky flaps of skin and stringy flesh hung from his clawed fingers, dripping blood and semi-melted fat. It look only a few moments before he realized what had been covering the chest of the Hoshidan soldier: the man’s scalped face and the exploded tendons of his left arm.  _

_ Feeling his stomach heave, Xander practically threw himself away from the corpse, not wanting to insult the dead further by throwing up on the eviscerated body. Only when he was hunched over, clutching at his own abdomen as his brain attempted to eject the contents of his empty belly, did he realize he himself was drenched in blood. _

_ Blood soaked his hair, dyeing the strands a dark brown... human viscera clung to the sharp edges of his armor, was speared against the claws of his gauntlet... soaked clothing felt as if it was rubbing his skin raw each time he moved... everything smelled of blood and death and vomit, scents he should have been accustomed to, but this time it was oh so different... wrong.  _

_ Only at the rapid approach of horse hoofs did Prince Xander raise his head, stringy bile dripping from his lips as he gazed at the newcomers. Upon a steed black as night sat his father, the King of Nohr, with his closest advisors in tow. Garon was dressed in traditional armor, not much different than Xander’s own, but it was clean and gleamed in the light of the approaching day. His father’s eyes were just as he remembered them, cold and distant, but sizzling underneath, unnoticeable to anyone who had not known the man their entire life, was a small gleam of.... pride. _

_ “Xander, my son,” Garon boomed, halting his party with a simple wave of a hand, “It seems as if you have done well here. I knew I could count on my first born to complete what his siblings could not.” _

_ At the mention of his siblings, Xander felt his stomach twist in agony. Camilla, Leo, little Elise... Corrin. They had all been assigned similar tasks to his own, but it sounded as if they had not met the same success as he. He wasn’t sure if that was a positive or negative outcome. _

_ “Of course father, I live to serve you and the people of Nohr.” _

_ Garon grunted in satisfaction, eyeing his sons prone form splayed on the ground. “That you do. I am proud of your efforts here today, perhaps you should consider washing up and returning to camp to rest. We march upon Hoshido tomorrow at dawn.”  _

_ “I understand sir,” Xander replied, bowing his head and staring blankly at the muddied ground beneath his fingers. Garon grunted once more in acknowledgement before snapping his  _

_ fingers in signal for his party to move out. _

_ After so many years of effort, working his fingers to the bone, studying until he fainted from exhaustion, his father’s praise felt more hollow than he had expected. Everything felt... so wrong. _

_ There was too much blood.  _

———

“My dearest Xander, it’s time to wake up.”

Grumbling, the crown prince of Nohr scrunched up his brows and attempted to squirm away from the voice invading his dreams. They certainly weren’t pleasant, but his body and soul were exhausted. He longed to sleep. 

There was a soft hum of amusement, more melodious to his ears than any of the hymns he had learned in church. “Little Prince, I know it’s hard to get up when it’s so dark out, but your father is waiting for us. You know his patience has been short as of late...” 

“...He’s grumpy...” Xander remarked, rubbing sleep ash out of his eyes with pudgy hands.

_ ‘Not yet marred by years of swordsmanships, hours of hard training. So different than those of the grown man he would become.’ _

“That’s right love, he’s grumpy,” his mother replied distantly, a smile gracing her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Now let’s get moving, I’ll prepare your clothes while you wash up.”

She was seated on the edge of his bed, still dressed in her formalwear from the evening before. The finest diamonds in all the lands practically dripped from her form, twinkling against the backdrop of her blonde hair and pale skin. Out of all the ladies Xander had ever seen, from the queens of neighboring kingdoms to the ‘working women’ his father sometimes brought through the castle late at night, his mother was by far the prettiest. 

Pushing off the heavy winter quilt he had been draped in sometime during the night,  Xander practically slid out from between the sheets, landing on the floor with all the grace of a sleepy five year old forced to wake up before the crack of dawn. 

Not only was his mother pretty, but she was also very kind. Despite his fathers insistence that he learn to take care of himself (“his duty as Crown Prince will demand much more of him,”), the queen consort would often sneak into her son’s room on days he was expected to rise particularly early. He knew this was a violation of his fathers expectations, knew because of the look the King leveled at his mother on such mornings, when she rushed to her place by his side with flustered cheeks and a flurry of excuses for her absence;  knew because of the welts that decorated his mothers wrists and collarbones during breakfast on such days. When he was young he would believe her explanations of slipping on recently polished marble or tangling her wrists in the reins of her steed, but now he was old enough to have been on the receiving end of his fathers wrath. 

Now he understood.

\----

_ His mother had learned of his fathers ‘punishments’ just a few months prior, when Xander had fallen ill with a terrible case of the chicken pox. While gently administering ointment to his irritated skin, she had come upon a purpling bruise on his back, a result of a hard whack with the hilt of a practice sword. Feeling himself wince at his mother’s prodding fingers, Xander had opened his mouth to explain, pausing momentarily to organize his thoughts. _

_ “It was just an accident,father was just disappointed with my lack of improvement, my swordsmanship wasn’t up to that of a crown prince and-“  _

_ The young boy tensed upon feeling his mother press her lips to the crown of his head, burying her nose into the blonde curls there. He remained rigid even as she wrapped him in a tight embrace, biting his lip to prevent himself whimpering due to the increased pressure on his blistered flesh.  _

_ “Oh my little prince,” she had murmured, voice cracking as she spoke, “I swore to myself I would never leave you to face this part of your father alone, but it seems I have failed you. I have done a poor job both as your protector and as your mother. I am so sorry sweet Xander.” _

_ Xander had wanted to jerk out of his mother’s arms, to insist he was completely fine and that she need not worry about him; he was a crown prince, after all, and anyways, his father had apologized profusely for his anger. Warriors were injured a lot during training too, and since he was heir to the throne, he would have to have the worst injuries of all. This was just another type of practice. _

_ Instead of responding, however, the little prince chose to remain still, allowing his mother’s tears to dampen his hair and having the discretion to feign ignorance until her cheeks had dried. _

——-

“Darling, did you know your father once had hair as unruly as yours?”

Xander frowned, brows furrowing as he imagined his father, with his massive white beard and thinning hair, looking anything like himself. He had heard maids and butlers whispering about how the king had aged ‘so suddenly,’ but he didn’t think it was possible for someone to change so much. “Really? Did he start wearing one of those hair pieces? Or was he cursed by Iago by accident? ”

The queen paused momentarily in her quest of taming her young son’s hair, lips quirking in amusement. “My my, Xander, you have quite the imagination. You are actually the spitting image of your father; the Nohrian royal blood runs strong in your veins my little prince. I’m actually rather surprised your sister does not resemble your father more.”

Xander squirmed in his seat, attempting to meet his mother’s gaze in the vanity mirror. She rarely spoke of his other siblings,  and used their names even less frequently; it was rather confusing. He knew she loved babies (he would always watch her coo at the maids infants when encountering them in the hallways- not that he was jealous or anything) and most of his brothers and sisters were just beginning to toddle around the castle. Despite her apparent interest in small children, however, she barely glanced at his own siblings. It was something his father and mother often argued about in hushed tones before breakfast, but even at his young age Xander knew better than to ask.

——-

_ Katerina’s difficulty in bearing children was not something Xander would learn about until he and his own wife struggled to have a child; the eldest midwife had cornered him in his study, where he had holed up following a heated discussion regarding his lack of an heir. Xander was never much one to share his personal struggles, although the fact that Corrin and he were still childless despite two years of marriage [as well as years of sexual exploits prior to their official ceremony] was clearly a sore spot for the king.  _

_ With the entirety of the Hoshidan royal family visiting Nohr on business, Azura and Laslow had found it prudent to introduce their infant son to his numerous aunts and uncles; it was rare to have everyone in one room, after all. Shigure was a quiet, observant child, remaining content despite being passed around strange relatives like a hot potato.  _

_ “Oh big brother, big sister, when are you two going to have a baby?” Elise had asked offhandedly as she traced the baby’s soft features with her fingertips. “I bet they are gonna have the most tangled head of hair the kingdoms ever seen!” _

_ Xander felt the muscles in his jaw tense involuntarily, continuing to stare into the chalice of red wine he swirled in his hand. Elise was not nefarious in her intentions, but it was certainly difficult to not feel attacked with the rift that was growing between he and his wife due to just that subject.  _

_ “Hopefully never,” Ryoma had huffed indignantly, leaning back in his chair. “Xander is too damn old, the cradle-robbing pervert.” _

_ “I beg your pardon?” Xander hissed back, his brother-in-laws needling igniting his already shortened fuse. “I’ll have you know that I-“  _

_ “Ryoma, Xander, enough!”  Corrin declared, stepping out of the circle of women who surrounded Azura like a gaggle of hens. Making her way towards the conglomerate of men seated at an elongated dining table- mostly husbands and boyfriends dreading the pleads for babies that would come from their partners later- she continued. “We may not have a child yet, but I’m sure the Gods will smile down upon us soon. Honestly, even if I’m unable to bear Xander a heir I’m sure there are plenty of young maidens in his kingdom who would be willing and able.”  _

_ The Nohrnian King felt his lips twist into a frown. “Corrin, you know I would never... I have no interest in...” _

_ “What you want is rather irrelevant, don’t you think big brother?” the Queen replied haughtily, abruptly cutting her husband, irritation smoldering in her red irises. . “After all, you’ve always told me the will of the Nohrian people must triumph your own desires.”  _

_ Xander felt his stomach twist in the way it always did when Corrin spoke to him in such bitter tones. They rarely argued, and the thought of doing so in front of their multitude of friends and relatives left a sour taste on his tongue; it was not so much the possibility of being embarrassed as it was the world knowing just how dire their circumstances had become. He would never lie with another woman, but he knew the guilt of not yet bearing a child ate away at his wife like a parasite. Tender moments between them had become few and far between, copulation more of a chore than an action of passion. The fact she chose to reference him as her brother rather than her lover was clearly meant to be a jab,  exemplifying just how distant they had become. _

_ “Sister, is Xander not treating you as a man should his wife?” Ryoma questioned lowly, all humor draining from his voice as his eyes roved slowly between Corrin and her betrothed. “You should tell your big brother these sorts of things, you know.”  _

_ The tension between the trio had risen to almost palatable levels, an awkward feeling comparable to that which was common in the days of the Hoshidan-Nohrnian war. Xander had never comprehended the possessiveness Ryoma held over Corrin nor why Corrin reciprocated such strong feelings, but he accepted them simply because he loved his wife. His advisors had made comments about it here or there, but this was perhaps the one portion of his life he gave little thought to; Corrin was a woman who held strongly to her convictions and promises, she would certainly never betray himself or their kingdom..... _

_ Now, gazing into his wife’s icy eyes, with her brother’s equally cold gaze directed at his head, he wasn’t entirely certain anymore.  _

_ With a sour taste clawing its way up his esophagus, Xander lifted the glass of wine to his lips, hoping the liquid could help ease the constriction of his throat. He was being absolutely absurd. Certainly Corrin, his darling wife, greatest confidant, and most avid supporter would never think him desperate enough to take on a concubine. He loved her, truly- and she him. _

(Although Garon had claimed the same just prior to igniting the Concubine wars).

_ “Lord Xander,” a voice pierced through the veil of his musings “You asked me to remind you of Duke Pierre’s letter, as it required immediate attention.”  _

_ Peri stood by his side, leaning down just barely to relay her message. As usual, his saving grace came in the form of one of his retainers. Both she and Laslow had become some of his most treasured allies, more like siblings than vassals; unlike his blood siblings, however, they were far more likely to look out for his wellbeing over that of Corrin’s. _

_ “Of course, thank you Peri,” Xander replied, moving to rest his chalice on the table. “My sincerest apologies, Ryoma, Corrin, but there seems to be a matter that requires my attention. Please,stay and enjoy the company of our comrades, I shall see you both at dinner.”  _

_ As he rose and made his way towards the rooms exit, the king felt his wife’s eyes practically burning a hole in the back of his skull.  _

_ Upon reaching his study, Peri had left him to his own devices, shooting him a sad smile as she left. There was always letters to pen, paperwork to be completed, requests to consider, but Xander found himself gazing at the same report for several minutes, taking in no information.  _

_ It was during this lapse in his attention that the elderly woman slipped into his study, a tray cradled in her weathered brown hands. Curtsying, she had presented the King with a cup of steaming liquid, the delicate porcelain painted with the dark florals typically associated with the royal family. “Your majesty, tea for you.” _

_ Xander studied the China carefully,noting the line-work was comprised entirely of gold. If one was not familiar with the set, it would be easy to miss the ‘K’ hidden in the elaborate design.  _

_ “This was my mother’s personal set, a gift from her late father,” he noted in a low voice, fingertips tracing the lip of the cup. “However did you come across this? Father insisted everything was gone...”  _

_ “Your mother was... well she was a close companion of mine,” the older woman murmured, wiping her hands on the hem of her apron. “There were some things she chose to share with only me; I knew her time was running short when she bestowed this set on me, perhaps intending me to share it with you, her only son, when the time was right. Katerina was a thoughtful woman until the end.” _

_ Xander chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over the information before taking a sip of the concoction. It was sweeter than he liked, something more up Corrin’s alley, but refrained from mentioning it. There were few people remaining in Krakenberg who remembered much of his mother; he did not wish to chase away the remaining ghosts, remove the traces of her that still lingered.  _

_ “What inspired you to seek me out now of all times? This meeting seems to have not been spontaneous on your end.” _

_ “Very perceptive of you, sire,” the woman noted, reaching over to refill Xander’s cup. “I couldn’t help but notice the tension building between you and your betrothed regarding... well the state of things.” _

_ Xander felt his stomach drop, brows scrunching up in the way Corrin always insisted made him look 10 years older. “I’m not entirely sure I’m following you correctly.”  _

_ The woman had hummed and hawed at the prince, subtly suggesting it was HIS ‘contribution’ to the baby making process that was hindering their ability to have a child; after all, Corrin was highly draconic, a trait that increased her fertility tenfold, and it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been trying. All residents of Krakenburg were aware of that.. _

_ Feeling a blush creep up his neck and into his face, Xander awkwardly rose from his desk, chair scratching against the tiled floor and making and ear-piercing screech. “This is not something I’m willing to discuss further. I appreciate you sharing your memories of my mother, but you have overstepped your boundaries with this. Please leave, I refuse to listen to the mutterings of false prophets.” _

_ The old woman gazed up at her new king, their massive difference in height making Xander hyperaware of how uncomfortable the entire situation was. He may be Nohr’s devoted leader, descendant of the Dusk Dragon, but respect for the elderly had been ingrained in him since childhood. The fact of the matter was, his lack of heir was problematic and he of all people should be open to the suggestions of those who likely knew far more about reproduction than he. Before he could open his mouth to apologize, however, the maid spoke again. _

_ “I... I know this may be difficult to accept sire, but it may be your unfortunate truth. Your mother is no longer here to counsel you, but I am certain she would want you to know of her own struggles in conceiving you,” the woman spoke slowly, pushing a raggedy book across Xander’s desk. “You were truly the light of her life, little prince, and she would want you to have the same happiness. Please do not hesitate to come to me if you wish to speak further.”  _

_ With that, the woman was gone, closing the door to his study with a soft ‘click.’ Xander stared blankly at the door for several moments before turning his attention to the  book left on his desk. The spine was frayed at the edges, cracked leather disclosing its age and use. Flipping open the cover, large, looping cursive was displayed against the yellowing backdrop of years-old paper. He immediately recognized it as his mother’s script.  _

_ Their handwriting was quite similar, with his own being slightly smaller and compact than that of Katerina. He remembered they had spent hours and hours when he was a child practicing writing; he could practically recite all the religious texts about the Dusk Dragon from heart as a result of his incessant copying. While he had desired to be as strong as his father as a child, he wished the pick up the verbiage of his mother, who communicated much more gracefully. Upon his Katerina’s passing, however, Garon had disposed of everything of his late wife in a guilt-induced drunk stupor. From then on, he had to structure his speech based on his ever fading memories of his mother. _

_ Flipping through the pages, Katerina’s most personal musings were laid out; while clearly they were not intended for Xander to read - several entries  were from even before her courtship by Garon- it almost seemed as if the entries were penned with him in mind. They spoke of her adoration of her family, the mutual pining that occurred between she and his father, an elaborate royal wedding. The courts were calm and the people of Nohr charmed by their new, beautiful Queen Consort; while it seemed as if everything was going well, the writing grew bleak. Despite months of trying, she was still unable to bear Garon an heir. She tried treatment upon treatment to increase her fertility, even going as far as to try remedies suggested by the ravings of a deranged medicine man said to have come from Hoshido. Garon had seemed to be rather supportive at first, but it was clear his mother and father were drifting apart; Katerina noted she had found some women’s undergarments in their marriage bed, much too large to be her own. She had decided to refrain from mentioning it to Garon; the ink of that entry had been smeared as if it had been saturated by liquid droplets.  _

_ —- _

_ Several hours later, Corrin would find her husband passed out at his desk, head buried in his folded arms. The faded journal was sprawled nearby, she had noted irritably as she lit several candles to illuminate the room; Xander had missed the entirety of the planned family dinner and Ryoma had kept needling her about the possibility of separation or divorce during his absence .  _

_ “Nobody would blame you for wanting to be happy, sister,” Ryoma had muttered, picking at a leg of some game animal cautiously, as if it was going to reach up and claw him in the face. “Sometimes we make mistakes in love when we are young, nothing wrong with admitting it and coming home to us.” _

_ Kagero elbowed her husband in the ribs, subtle but strong, as Corrin shot her Hoshidan brother a withering look.  _

_ Corrin loved her husband, she truly did, but Ryoma was not wrong in assuming their marriage was not currently a happy one. As awful as it sounded, she and Xander’s main interactions as of late were comprised only of requests to pass such-and-such at dinner or of useless bickering. _

_ An argument had been her intention when initially storming into the room, but she had frozen in her tracks once her eyes fell on her husband. It was so rare for him to sleep as of late- he always looked exhausted and she feared he was looming on the edge of illness with how sallow his cheeks had become- she felt guilty waking him from a slumber he desperately needed. It hurt when they argued, but the thought of Xander’s internalized stress and suffering stung even more. _

_ Glancing over at the open book, Corrin noted the neat handwriting, so different than any reference her husband typically used. The book itself seemed much older too, worn out, a condition none of the royal siblings would typically let their texts deteriorate to. Odd. _

_ Moving cautiously as to not nudge Xander awake by mistake, Corrin flipped through the pages with nimble finger, scanning the words for anything that seemed familiar. There were several mentions of Garon, of how awful court etiquette was, how the author wished to return home to visit family. The writer complained of feeling constantly nauseous, describing  throwing up during a massive ball and having to return to the gathering after switching into a new dress (Corrin couldn’t help but giggle at that one, having had a similar incidence as a small child with the stomach flu). Finally, she came upon a page with a list of several dozen boys names; most were crossed out, but there was a dark, prominent circle around one in particular.  _

_ ‘Xander.’ _

_ Corrin froze, giving the list a long, hard stare. Many of the names were traditional, often used for nobles and their children- Roy, Marth, Camus, Berkut- with small notes jotted beside each one. _

_ ‘Garon insists Camus sounds too much like camels,’ one noted ‘do men ever grow up?’ _

 

_ The note beside her husbands name simply read: ‘Alexander, protector of men’ —>  Xander is more traditionally Nohrian, Garon’s father says.’ _

_ Biting her lower lip, Corrin flipped to the front of the book; on the cover was engraved the name ‘Katerina.’ _

_ While Corrin knew very little of Xander’ mother, the bits and pieces she picked up in conversation suggested Katerina was a kind woman, the soft heart at the center of Krakenburg’s armored exterior. The people of Nohr adored their empathetic queen consort, and scholars argued over whether the royal family or the people mourned her death more.  _

_ Corrin practically jumped out of her skin when she felt strong arms encircle her waist, letting a squeak slip past her lips. Her own hands shot to her dragon-stone, preparing to muscle through the uncomfortable transformation if need be; her posture only relaxed when heard the ever-familiar, snort of her husband. _

_ “Sneaky sneaky, my little princess,” Xander muttered in low tone, his voice still gravelly from his nap and face pressed into her back, “Whoever would of thought I would find you snooping through my things at age 23 the same way you did when you were 13.” _

_ Corrin felt tears prickle the back her eyes, unsure if they arose due to mild- embarrassment at being caught going through Xander’s things or from an aching sorrow that had formed in her chest. It wasn’t as if he forbade her from examining his personal belongings- quite the opposite actually- but this felt particularly... personal. Raw. Corrin knew herself to be her husbands closest confidant, the only person he was willing to share with the thoughts that he alone had burdened  for so many years. With that however, there were many things he was unwilling to talk about, typically brushing off her questioning with a gentle kiss to her forehead or an offer to go to town to retrieve the sweet buns she loved. His relationship with Katerina happened to fall into the second category, a subject he typically glossed over. _

_ If she was feeling low after reading just a few entries of a woman she had never met and rarely heard of, Corrin could hardly imagine how turbulent Xander’s emotions were. She imagined her husband alone in his office, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as struggled to read the entries in the fading light of Nohr’s dusk. While she cursed his name under her breath in the golden light of the dining hall, he sat alone, stewing in his own dark thoughts, likely chewing his fingernails absentmindedly (it was a habit Garon had failed to beat out of his anxiety-ridden first born, something that had likely irked him to his death bed). In their wedding vows, she had promised to support him through the immeasurable adversity he would face rebuilding Nohr, noting how his normally stoic expression had relaxed, his ice-chip eyes melting into watery brown swirls. It had warmed her heart at the time, the thought of creating a warm home with her prince, the family neither of them had ever experienced. Those thoughts had slipped away in time, just as they had distanced themselves from one another in an attempt to ignore the prospect of being unable to achieve their shared dream of a family. _

_ “Xander,” she whispered, turning in order to make eye contact with the tired- so so tired- hazel eyes she knew like the back of her hand. Reaching up to bury her hands in the golden curls of her husbands hair, she pressed their foreheads together, murmuring softly. “I am so sorry.” _

_ Xander’s lips tweaked slightly, just barely enough to be considered a real smile. “As am I, my love, as am I.” _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So, I used to write pretty prolifically but stopped for several years; this is my first foray back into fan fiction and I decided to create a new persona as of such. Initially this was meant to be a one-shot, but it got longer and longer... In the end I decided it would make more sense if I split it into two.
> 
> Apologies if the formatting is a bit confusing, the plain text is meant to be Katerina and Xander; their relationship plus Garon was meant to be the main point of the work but it eventually spun into Kamarx territory with the fertility issue. The italics text happens either in the future, in the past, a dream, etc. It's meant to be a little ambiguous.
> 
> At the end of the day, I really wrote this for myself when I got deep into Fates after summoning Spring Xander in Heroes, but figured I would share on here since I have dedicated significant time to it. I included some of my favorite aspects of Xander's character to spoil myself even if they are not strictly canonical (i.e. in this work, Xander is in his early 30's and Kamui/Corrin in her early/mid-twenties).
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoy by leaving kudos; comments are very much appreciated as well. Thank you for taking the time to read.


End file.
